What Happens When Death Forgets
by thedemonspawn
Summary: After retirement, the Grim Reaper realizes he forgot something very important.
1. Never knock on Death's door

A new story! Weeeeeeeeeee!

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**Never knock on Death's door: ring the bell and run away! Death really hates that! - Matt Frewer**

**-**

"Kenny, give it back!"

"Make me!"

"Give me the fucking remote!"

"Stanley, language!"

"Sorry, Mom!"

You really couldn't help but laugh at the scene that was unfolding. Stan was, at the moment, chasing Kenny around the living room. Unfortunately, the blonde was much smaller and faster than the other.

Kyle had sunken into one of the armchairs, his hands covering his face, desperately trying to hide the bout of laughter at his best friend's failure to retrieve the remote.

Cartman was plopped on the sofa, cheering Kenny on. Nothing made him happier than watching the misfortune of others. Especially Stan. And if Cheezy Poofs were involved, he would be entertained for _hours_.

In one last attempt, Stan jumped at the smaller boy, successfully knocking him over. As for Kenny, well, he suddenly found himself with a face full of carpet.

"Get off!"

"Give me the remote."

He was sitting Kenny's back, glaring at the back of his head.

"Get off me first!"

"You think I trust you?"

"Why not?"

"Kenny, I'm not kidding. Give me the remote, or I _will_ kill you."

"You're kinda sexy when you get angry, ya know that?"

"Dude, not cool!"

"It's true!"

"Come on, Stan, just let him up."

"Yeah, listen to Kyle!"

"Fine!"

Stan rolled off him, making sure to push his head down even _more_ into the carpet before getting up.

Kenny stood as well. Taking a step towards Stan, he waved the remote in front of his face.

"You want it?"

"Yes!"

"'Yes', what?"

"Yes, please?"

"Okay, but you have to do something for me first."

"What?"

"Just don't move."

He took another step towards him, closing to space between them quickly. Before Stan knew what was happening, Kenny had grabbed the back of his head and crashed their lips together. He didn't panic.

"Dude, not again." Kyle sighed.

Kenny had pulled this before. And when Cartman called him a fag for it, he just flipped him off and went along his merry way. At 16, he really couldn't care less. Two years of the 'rumor' he was bi floating around the school had more or less given him his attitude.

Anyway, they were _almost_ used to it by now.

Finally, he pulled away, leaving a slightly stunned Stan just standing there.

"Here's the remote," he said, throwing it to him, falling on to the couch, and grabbing the bag of Cheezy Poofs out of Cartman's hands.

"You suck."

"And I've been told I'm pretty good at it, too."

"Dude, you are _such _a _fag_."

Cartman received a punch in the arm for that one.

"Shut up!"

"It's _true_!"

"Well you don't have to remind me every three seconds!"

"Guys! Look at this!" Kyle interrupted before the argument got to out of hand.

"A news report. Whoop-de-do!"

"No, listen!"

"_And tonight we'll be looking at the crippling effects of the sudden population growth. Strangely, __no__one __seems to have been dying for three days now…_"

"That's weird."

"Yeah."

"Hey, Stan, change the channel! Terrence and Philip is on!"

"Whatever, Kenny."

Meanwhile, five miles beneath them, the Grim Reaper was sitting in front of his TV in his boxers, a beer can clutched in his skeletal hand. He reached up and scratched the small beard that begun to grow before grabbing the remote. Retirement had not been kind.

He didn't really look the way you would think. Grey hair, sunken grey-blue eyes, sagging skin. Yes, he still had all of his skin, except on his hands. _That_, unfortunately, was mandatory for the job.

Flipping through the channels, he finally found the news.

"_And tonight we'll be looking at the crippling effects of the sudden population growth. Strangely, __no__one __seems to have been dying for three days now…_"

"Oh, shit!" He slapped his forehead.

"I _knew_ I for got to do something before I left! Lil, call the boss, there's some stuff I gotta do and I wanna get paid for it!"

"What did you forget _now_?"

A beautiful young woman with black hair and red eyes came into the room.

"I, um…"

"You didn't?"

"I did…"

"Oh, you are in _such_ big trouble!"

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There's the first chapter.

I'd like to thank my mom for the idea about the Grim Reaper.

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	2. I guess that's how death works

Next chapter!

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**I guess that's how death works. It doesn't matter if we're ready or not. It just happens. - Randy K. Milholland**

-

"Damn it…" Kenny mumbled under his breath as he scratched the back of his hand.

For the past four days his hands seemed to have been getting itchier and itchier, and his skin was flaking off. It was kinda freaking him out. Strange, foreign diseases he could handle. His brain being splattered on the pavement almost every day, he could handle. But not being able to move his hands for fear they would start itching again, he could _not_ handle.

"What's wrong?" Kyle leaned over his desk, his eyes a bit glazed over. Not even the Brain Boy Wonder could stay awake during math.

"Nothing," He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands, "I'm fine."

"Oh, okay…" Kyle's head then went back to it's original position of leaning against the wall behind him.

Kenny really didn't want to give him anything else to worry about. Kyle already had enough on his plate. His parents had been cracking down on him about his grades since the beginning of high school, saying that if he wanted to get into Harvard he couldn't fail. The poor kid would stay up all night studying because there _might_ be a pop quiz the next day. Plus, Ike, at 10, was in 8th grade, and thought he was smarter than everyone else. (He probably was, but that didn't mean he had to rub it in their faces.)

Beeeeeeeeeep.

The bell. Daycare, a.k.a. the torture chamber, a.k.a. school, was over for the week.

-

Walking into his house, Kenny made sure not to make to much noise. If his dad was asleep and he woke him up, there would be hell to pay.

Thankfully, his dad must not have been home, because his mom was sitting at the table with the newspaper in front of her. She was looking for a job. With Kevin in college, she figured Kenny could take care of himself and his little sister, Kayla, while she was gone.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, Kenny… You seen your father?"

"Nope, sorry." He walked over and stood next to her.

"Are you okay?"

He looked at her sideways. "I'm fine."

"Good…"

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Okay…"

Now his mom was depressed. Perfect.

He got to the bathroom and pushed the door open. It didn't have a working lock anymore, something he had broken last year when Kevin through him into the door, successfully cracking his skull.

He tried turning the shower on. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing.

"Mom, the shower's broken!"

"The water got turned off this morning!"

"Great." He rolled his eyes as he scratched his hand.

Next stop, Stan's place.

-

Stan was currently in a headlock. No, he wasn't wrestling, Shelly was home for the weekend. This had been quite a nasty surprise for him.

They had actually started to get along a year or so ago, but her favorite pastime was still 'Bash Stan's Face Into the Wall'.

He then heard a knock at the door. A wonderful window of opportunity had just opened up.

"I'll get it!" he shouted as he pulled out of Shelly's death grip.

He pulled the door open. "Hello?"

"Hey, man. Can I use your shower?"

"What?" He just stared at the blonde boy in front of him.

"My water got turned off, I need to use your shower."

Stan sighed. "Fine. Just don't make to much noise. Shelly's home."

"Oh, fun for you. And I make no promises about the noise." He winked at him before disappearing up the stairs.

-

10 minutes later, Kenny was looking at his soaking wet reflection in the mirror above Stan's sink, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Everyone told him he was good looking, and he really didn't see it. He had watched everyone else mature over time, but he still looked exactly the same as he did when he was 13. Eyes almost too big for his face and hair that no matter what he did to it, it always ended up messy. He guessed all the dying and coming back to life might have been to blame.

His hands were still bothering him. He looked down at them. They were even redder than he remembered them and he could barely move them.

He turned the sink on and scrubbed at them. Now he was scared. His skin was literately peeling off.

"Ow!" He jumped away from the sink. It hurt! He looked down at his hands. He was bleeding!

"Stan! Help!"

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

Stan appeared in the doorway. "What happened?"

Kenny held up a hand.

"What the hell?"

It was a bit gruesome. First off, he had lost his fingernails. That in itself was bad, but the skin on the tips of his fingers was _gone_. All there was left was bone and a bit of muscle. There was also a hole in his right hand that you could see bone through.

"You said your hands were itchy, but this is…"

"What do I do?!"

"How should I know?!"

"Don't yell at me!" Tears were welling up in Kenny's eyes. He wasn't a big crier, but this was too much.

"Okay, I'm sorry, but this is messed up."

"How –sob- am I –sob- supposed –sob- to cover –sob- this up."

"You can just wear your gloves."

"M-my gloves? –sob- W-what –sob- if they –sob- get in-infected?"

He was shaking now. Stan pulled him into a hug.

"It'll be okay."

Kenny nodded into his shoulder.

"Just get dressed and we'll figure something out."

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	3. If you live to be one hundred

On with the story!

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**_"If you live to be one hundred, you've got it made. Very few people die past that age." - George Burns_**

****

"Does this make me look fat?"

Lillith spun around to face the Grim Reaper, who had just walked out of his room in his black robes.

"You're skin and bones, _nothing _makes you look fat."

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't." She smiled, the tips of her fangs showing.

"So you're going after this kid?"

"I have to."

"Well, have fun!"

He just rolled his eyes and disappeared.

"I know I _defiantly_ will." She laughed to herself and disappeared as well.

-

"OW!"

"Hold still!"

"Stan, it _hurts_!"

"Don't be such a baby, Kenny."

"Hey, I have every right to be a baby!"

Both boys were sitting on the bathroom floor as Stan desperately tried to bandage Kenny's hands. This was no easy task because a.) Kenny kept complaining every five seconds, and b.) his skin was now peeling off in sheets.

"Make it stop!"

"Kenny, if I knew how, I would, okay?"

Kenny just sniffled in reply and looked at his hands. There was no skin left, but almost everything that had been under his skin, muscle, veins, etc., was still there and still working.

Stan sighed. "We have to get you to the hospital-"

"No! I can't! They kill me every time I go there!"

"Okay, okay, we don't have to go to the hospital, but we need to go to _someone_."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Shut up!" Stan yelled as he stood up.

Kenny laughed.

"Just put your gloves on, I have an idea."

"How the _fuck_ do you expect me to put my gloves on? In case you haven't noticed, I can't move my hands!"

He rolled his eyes, grabbed Kenny's hand, and without thinking, pulled him up roughly.

"OW! MOTHERFUCKER!" Kenny jumped away, flailing around.

"Sorry."

"You s-suck." Tears welled up in his eyes again.

"Boys, are you okay? I heard yelling."

"We're fine, Mom! Give me your hand."

"No fucking way!"

"Come on, Kenny, it's just gonna hurt more if I have to force you."

"Fine." He gave Stan his hand reluctantly. Seconds later his gloves were on and he was biting his lip just to keep from screaming.

"Where are we going?"

"Kyle's."

"Why? I don't think he would know much about diseases."

"We're not going to see Kyle; we're going to see Ike."

"Oh, of course. The super genius."

They snuck down the stairs and out the front door, trying not to disturb the rest of the Marsh family again.

-

Beeeeeep.

Ike's head shot up and banged against the coffee table at the sound of the doorbell. He had been sitting upside-down on the sofa reading Kyle's biology book.

He rolled off the couch, walked to the door, and opened it to find Stan and Kenny standing there looking a bit flustered.

"Kyle's not home."

"No, actually we're here to see you."

Ike raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here to _me_?"

"We have a little… problem."

"A problem that involves me?"

Kenny snapped. "Are you gonna help us or not?!"

"Come in."

The blonde make his way into the house and used his arm to push his hood off his head.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"That's the problem, actually…" He raised his hands. "Stan, if you please?"

"Sure." He walked over and pulled the gloves off Kenny's hands. Not the smartest idea.

The rest of what had been on his hands came off with the gloves. The only thing left was the bare bone.

"Ah! Stan, what did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!"

Ike stared, wide-eyed.

"Holy shit…"

"That's fucked up right there." Stan gagged a little when he looked inside the blood-stained gloves.

"Come up to my room, quick. Mom's gonna kill me when she sees the blood…" Ike took off up the stairs with Kenny and Stan right behind him.

-

An hour later, Ike was sitting at his computer typing something, Stan was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling, and Kenny was curled up on Ike's bed looking at his now skeletal hands.

"Well, as far as I can see, this is either an allergic reaction or a foreign disease with no cure."

Kenny looked up.

"Thanks Ike, that helps _a lot_."

"Just letting you know. I figured you'd want to know if you were dying or not."

"Is there any records of this happening before?" Stan spoke up.

"Yeah."

"Are you serious?!" Kenny jumped off the bed and kneeled down beside Ike.

"Right here. It's weird actually. There are reports of this same kind of thing every 500 years."

"500 years? It's like one of those genetic things that skip generations?"

"Kind of, but I don't think you're related to anyone who's had it."

"How do you know? Were you there?"

"No, but are you Scottish?"

"No."

"Then I don't think you're related him."

"Him who?"

"The last guy who had it. He was a Scottish prince or something, who had a…

"Had a what? Had a what?!"

"Had a sword stuck through his head at the age of 15 and lived."

"So?"

"So?! You don't live after that! No one lives after that! Except…"

Stan and Ike both looked at Kenny.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No one lives after that, except you."

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	4. Death is a very dull, dreary affair

I just realized I never did a disclaimer, so...

**Disclaimer:** If I owned South Park I wouldn't be typing this.

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**"Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it." - W. Somerset Maugham**

**-**

Kenny opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of the door slamming downstairs.

"Hey, Ike, I'm home! Mom called, she wants us to… Why the fuck is there blood on the floor?! Ike, are you okay?! Ike?!"

"I'm up here and I'm fine!"

"Why is there blood on the floor?"

"Um, Kenny cut his leg and he came over here to fix it up."

"Is he here?"

"Yeah. Stan's here, too."

There were footsteps on the stairs. Stan through Kenny's gloves at him, which he caught and pulled over what was left of his hands.

Kyle opened the door.

"Hey, guys."

"Kyle!" Kenny jumped up and hugged him.

"Okay, what do you want?"

Kenny looked confused. Then he got this perverted smile on his face.

"I want _you_!"

"Dude, not cool!" Kyle shoved him off. Kenny just laughed.

"Doesn't your leg hurt?"

"No, why?"

Ike covered his face with his hands and shook his head.

Stan walked over and put a hand on Kenny's shoulder.

"Uh, dude, you're having a blonde moment, aren't you?"

"Guys, what's going on?"

Kenny opened his mouth again, but this time was cut off by Stan.

"We have to go. See you guys later." He grabbed Kenny's hand and dragged him downstairs and out the door.

"Ike?"

He looked out from in-between his fingers.

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, why?"

"They're just acting weird, that's all. You sure there's nothing going on?"

"Hey, if I knew something, I'd tell you, okay?"

Kyle gave him a skeptic look.

"Yeah, whatever."

-

"You were gonna tell him, weren't you?"

"Yeah, so? I can't tell my friends about my strange foreign diseases anymore?"

Stan stopped in his tracks.

"Well, yeah, of course you can, but I don't think telling Kyle right now would be the best idea."

"I guess you're right… Hey, can I stay over at your place tonight? I don't think my mom'll be to happy about my hands."

"Sorry, man, Wendy's coming over."

Kenny got that perverted smile again.

"Oh, really? Can I watch?"

"_**NO**_!"

He held up his hands in defense.

"Okay, okay, you don't have to yell. Geez…"

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	5. Life does not cease to be funny

Enjoy!

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**Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh. - George Bernard Shaw  
**

The next day, Kenny tried to act normal. Or at least, normal for him. He got through the first couple of periods okay, but people started asking why he was wearing his gloves during school. The excuse that he was cold wasn't working; he walked around for years wearing almost nothing except for his orange parka.

During lunch, Cartman asked him as nicely as he could what was wrong.

"Hey, Kenneh, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Lots of things. Why?"

"You're acting even poorer than usual."

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything, Fatass?"

"Whatever, Wellfare."

Ah, yes, the nicknames they had for each other. At the age of 11, Kenny had pushed Cartman into Stark's Pond for calling him 'Wellfare', but he got over it fairly quickly.

* * *

Last period. History. Like he cared what happened a thousand years ago.

The teacher had apparently left for the day, and the classroom had gone into chaos while they were waiting for their sub to come. Everyone was practically screaming, things were being thrown, and Kenny just put his head down, closed his eyes, and prayed a pencil wouldn't get lodged in his neck.

The door opened and shut. The class went completely silent.

He lifted his head slightly. Anyone who could make this class shut up that quickly was worth seeing.

She had her back turned to him and was righting something on the board. Long, black hair and a red dress was all he could see.

"Hello, class, I'm Ms. L, and I'm going to be your substitute for a few days," she said as she turned around.

She looked barely older than him, early 20s at the most. But something was wrong. She had red eyes. Was that why everyone was quiet?

He starred. He couldn't help it. There was something making him want to stare, and it wasn't just her eyes.

"Kenny, are you alright?"

She made eye contact. He suddenly felt sick.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine."

After the bell rang, he grabbed his books and ran out of the room. What was up with him? She was just a sub! Nothing was wrong, she just had incredible timing. He hoped...

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	6. I wouldn't mind dying

I know the last chapter was really short, but I needed a filler chapter to get to this one.

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**I wouldn't mind dying - it's the business of having to stay dead that scares the shit out of me. - R. Geis**

"Kenny, could I talk to you for a minute?"

She was calling him back. Great.

"Yeah, sure."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine." He wanted to leave.

"Well, alright then... Could you come over here for a second."

He looked at her strangely.

"Now, quickly."

He walked over uneasily.

Thud! A piece of the ceiling fell behind him, right where he had been standing seconds before.

_What the hell? Is she pychic or something?_

"I-I have to go!" He stammered and ran off.

She stood there, smirking to herself in the empty hallway.

"Lillith!" A voice echoed in the hall.

"Yes, Grim?"

The Grim Reaper appeared infront of her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Having a little fun, what else?"

"You know I have to kill him in order to-"

"Then why don't you just walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder? You've done it before, right?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Then stop with the parlor tricks, and get it done if you don't want me interfering!"

"You are impossible! Try to be reasonable for once, will you?"

"Hey I tried that and failed, remember? Look where that got me?"

He sighed, exasprated, and disappeared. She did the same.

Kenny was freaking out. Had she known the ceiling was going to fall? Did she make it fall? How? His brain was going in circles

He could see his house up ahead. Or what his parents called a 'house'.

When he opened the front door, he was greeted by his cat. He found him when he was 10, and had begged his parents to let him keep him. The cat got rid of the rats, the cat could stay.

"Hey, Kay," he said loudly, as the cat smooshed his face against his leg.

No one told him to shut the fuck up, so he new no one was home. He plopped down on the sofa, pulled his gloves off and held his hands out for Kay to sniff. The cat apparently didn't care whether or not Kenny had skin, and rubbed his head on his fingers.

"You're not scared of me, huh?"

Purr, purr, purr.

"I wish everyone could be this accepting."

Purr, purr, purr.

"This hand thing is really gonna suck when I get a girlfriend..."

Purr, purr- thud.

The cat just fell over.

"Kay?" He poked him. "Kay?"

Dead. Very, very dead.

"Holy shit..."

He just sat there in shock, wide-eyed.

_W-what happened?_

He looked at his hands. They glowed for a second and stopped.

_Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I just killed my fucking cat... Okay, don't freak out, don't freak out. Oh, God. J-just call Stan. Talk to him. Yeah, yeah._

He picked up the phone and dialed one of the many numbers etched into his brain.

"Hello?"

"H-hey, Stan."

"You okay? You don't sound good."

"Oh, I'm fine. Just killed my cat, is all."

Stan must have been drinking something, because Kenny heard him spit it out. "You WHAT?"

"I-I killed my cat. I touched him, and he died."

"I'll be right over." He hung up.

"Great..."

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	7. I'm not afraid to die

I wrote this chapter in the rush of inspiration after I got my ears pierced. Yay!

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**I'm not afraid to die, I just don't want to be there when it happens - Woody Allen**

"Wow, dude."

"Yeah, I know."

"I think you need help."

"No shit."

Kenny currently had his head on his diningroom table as Stan walked in large circles around the livingroom.

"We should tell the guys."

"Kyle and Dumbfuck? I don't think so! The only reason _you_ know is because you were there."

"Maybe they can help, Kenny!"

"How? I highly doubt they can fix this!"

"You know what? I'm sick of this! Figure it out on your own!"

The door slammed and Stan was gone.

Kenny sighed heavily.

_Okay, Kenny, think. How do you get yourself out of this one?_

Knock, knock, knock.

He got up to answer the door.

"You here to apologize?" He said as he opened the door.

"What do I need to apologize for, Kenny?"

His eyes went wide with shock. Standing in his doorway was Ms. L.

"Oh, s-sorry… Um, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm here for you, Kenny."

"W-wha…"

Suddenly he was falling; not just 'he tripped' kind of falling, the 'you are now hurtling through nothing' kind.

He couldn't even scream. He didn't really need to. He had fallen down to hell before, but never though the floor.

Wham!

He hit the ground, and rolled a little. The air had gotten knocked out of him, so he sat up gasping for breath.

"Jeez, I thought you would never show up!"

He finally opened his eyes.

It seemed he was in an office, but the walls were made of black stones. The floor was polished, black marble, as was the huge desk in front of him, and the fireplace behind it.

Sitting at the desk was Ms. L. She certainly didn't look like a teacher anymore. She wore a short, red dress, and her feet, which were propped up on the desk, were in chunky, red heels.

"Are you gonna talk, kid, or do I have to make you?"

"Who- No, what are you?"

"My name's Lillith."

Blank stare.

She sighed.

"First wife of Adam, turned into the mother of all demons because I wouldn't corporate. Ring any bells?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"Good. Follow."

She got out of her chair and walked past him, towards two long rows of filing cabinets.

Kenny stood and followed her. What he noticed right away was that the two rows were labeled 'Killed' and 'Not Killed'.

_What the hell does she do?_

"I kill newborn boys, Kenny."

_Holy shit! Is she physic?_

"Yes."

"Might as well think out loud, then."

"Sure…" She was busy looking through one of the drawers. File after file after file, flicking her long, black nails through them.

"Ah, here it is!" She pulled one of the files out and waved it a little.

"What?"

"Here, it's yours." She through it at him.

Opening it carefully, one piece of paper was there.

**Lillith,**

**78435-99 (Kenneth McCormick) is under the protection of Archangel Gabriel. Failure to comply with restrictions will result in temporary revoking of power. The Grim Reaper will be taking over in 5,844 days.**

**Lauren, Secretary of God**

"What is it?"

"It's a memo."

"And it means…"

"It means I wasn't allowed to kill you."

"Why?"

"Well, you can't kill what already dead."

"But I'm not-"

"Ever wonder why you don't stay dead?"

"Well, I've wondered, but I never really thought about it."

"You're the next Grim Reaper, Kenny. You can't die."

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